


Two Parts Sugar, Four Parts Bitter

by Fweeble



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fweeble/pseuds/Fweeble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s nothing. Nagachika-san has only asked for his help with some chocolate recipes for Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Parts Sugar, Four Parts Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked for something from the  [Kaneki Draws Porn AU](http://fweeble.tumblr.com/post/114606931958/in-which-kaneki-ken-draws-porn-for-a-living).

 

“Hey there, neighbor! Mind dropping by around eight tonight to help taste test some new recipes I’m planning for Valentine’s Day?”

The words spin endlessly in Kaneki’s head.

He knows it’s nothing. Nagachika-san only asked because Hinami is sleeping over at her friends’ house and no patissier worth his salt would release untested products to his customers. The blond’s open and guileless smile spoke volumes. It was the bitter sweetness of earnest affection between acquaintances-and-maybe-friends.

When he goes over to Nagachika-san’s apartment, he’ll find other people there as well.

Because Nagachika-san is such a bright, breathtaking sun, people find themselves hopelessly trapped in his orbit and the man, with the cruelty of innocence, will invite them all. It will be a taste testing party of poor souls so helplessly captivated, pulled this way and that, by the gravity of his smile, his warm laugh.  
  
19:37  
  
It’s still too early.  
  
But he hasn’t been able to draw anything but the thick lines of Nagachika-san’s eyebrows, the unruly waves of his hair, his lips –plush and enticingly pink. It’s been three hours and all he is doing is wasting money doodling on his Deleter paper with the lovelorn sketches of a smitten high school girl.

It should be galling.

It is.

Maybe Nagachika-san can use some helping hands. While friends and family alike had thoughtfully informed him that his attempts at cooking qualified as life-threateningly radioactive waste, he can surely find some way to help the blond, right? He can help weigh the chocolate and milk and… other necessary ingredients.

He is an adult. A confident and empowered adult who has read four self-help books and can adequately navigate the trials and tribulations of social interaction with his next door neighbor.

His nice, gorgeous next door neighbor who doesn’t know that, just this morning, he drew five pages of the most ill-researched bdsm and a slew of unethical and supremely unhealthy sexual practices. In graphic detail.

But Nagachika-san doesn’t know this. So everything is fine. He can do this.

And that is how Kaneki manages to inchworm his way from his apartment to Nagachika’s, face in one hand as he rings the doorbell.

“Ah, Kaneki-san!” The vision before him pinkens a bit in the doorway. “You’re early… The desserts aren’t quite…”

“I was hoping to help,” Kaneki blurts out, wrenching his hand away from his face. “I… I’m having trouble with  the storyboard for this week and I was starting to get a little stir crazy…”

“…And I’m hopelessly behind on chocolate preparation,” the blond admits sheepishly. “I had put off shopping until the last moment and I had to hit seven different stores before I could buy the chocolate I wanted. So…  
  
“Your help would be much appreciated.”  
  
And the blinding smile the other man sends his way assures Kaneki that his self-help books are right. You have to seize the day or miss the beauty of life.

—  
  
20:21

Nagachika-san is sucking on his finger.

Everything is a blur, the blood rushing in his ears sound suspiciously like a heavenly choir, and Kaneki has the vague feeling he must’ve burned it on… something. Something sticky?

His finger is pulled out with a pop, Nagachika-san’s other hand searching through a drawer as the blond lets out a triumphant “Found it!” and soothes the burn with some ointment.

“That’s it for the ganache, I guess,” Nagachika-san sighs at the spilled chocolate on the floor.

“We still have the chocolate mousse,” Kaneki says, buoyed by reckless courage, fueled by three deadline induced sleepless nights, the sweet smell of chocolate, the sight of long lashes fluttering against high cheekbones, the scrape of  _his_  tongue, wet and warm.  “And it’s delicious but I think I know how to make it taste even better.”

“Really?” The blond asks, lips quirking. “Do tell.”

“Trust me?” Everything seems sharper, clearer than ever, he can see the goose pimples prickling on the patissier’s skin. It’s not because of the chilly early February air, it’s because of him, and that just emboldens him as he plucks the clean towel off the counter and carefully ties it around the other man’s eyes.

Carefully, he picks up the bowl.

“Let’s set the plate, shall we?” he asks as he takes Nagachika’s hand and guides him to the couch.

Every touch, every silent question, is responded with acquiescence as the blond is gently maneuvered onto the couch until Kaneki is hovering over him, heart racing.

The first taste is experimental, a dollop of it on the tip of the blond’s nose.

Egged on by the dark flush on the delicate shell of the other man’s cheeks, his ears, the next one is on burning cheeks, the third on the tip of an ear.

“I like you,” he confesses into the hollow of the patissier’s throat. He breathes in the sweet scent that clings to Nagachika, allows the low burn to spread and settle. “I like you, will you be my Valentine?”  
  
And delightfully kiss-bitten lips part to say,  
  
“Kaneki-saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan. Are you home? It’s past 8:40!”  
  
Kaneki jolts upright, winces at the itch of dried drool on his face and the stickiness down below.

20:43, his phone cheerily informs him when he taps its screen.

He shuffles over to the door, mussing his hair as he goes, and opens his door a crack to poke his disheveled, shameful face and say, “Sorry, I fell asleep… I’ve been busy lately. I’ll wash up then go over?”

“Sure thing. I’ll brew some coffee for you.”

Kaneki moves to close the door when the blond says, “I know you’re busy, but take care of yourself, Kaneki-san. Make sure to get at least six hours every night!”

Kaneki shifts in his tacky sweats and mournfully thinks he won’t be sleeping much for awhile.


End file.
